


unexpected kisses in unexpected places

by crooked



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire usually cleans up (and purposefully hides a few things) before his friends come over. This time, however, Enjolras doesn't call first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unexpected kisses in unexpected places

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at tumblr in response to [yourpontmercyfriend](http://yourpontmercyfriend.tumblr.com/post/57841474503/you-know-how-sometimes-fanart-can-make-enjolras)'s headcanon. and then i remembered i had an ao3 account so i figured why not?

"I brought Chinese," Enjolras says as he walks in, holding up the bag for Grantaire to see. It's not the first time he's done this, shown up with food because he knows Grantaire sometimes gets too wrapped up in everything else to remember to eat. They all do, all of his friends, and it touches him, but he always makes a point to roll his eyes at them as he says thank you. Just so they know he doesn't care _that_ much. (It fools exactly nobody.)

Usually, though, there is a quick text or a phone call, some warning to give Grantaire time to tidy up, maybe get rid of a few empties and strewn dirty laundry. He doesn't know where his phone is at the moment, but Grantaire knows it didn't ring or beep at him. He wants to be irritated at the fact that Enjolras thinks he can just show up whenever he wants, but the fact that he feels comfortable enough to do so fills Grantaire with a warmth that he's almost ashamed of.

"I can see that," he says, shutting the door and joining Enjolras on the couch. He's opening he brown bag and pulling out cartons, chopsticks, packets of soy sauce and fortune cookies. "You didn't call. How did you know I was home?"

Enjolras shrugs a shoulder, opening a carton of chicken chow mein that Grantaire need only inhale the scent of to know where it's from. He went to Golden Palace, Grantaire's favorite. That doesn't help the fluttering feeling in his stomach at all. "I didn't. I took a gamble." Enjolras hands him a pair of chopsticks and the chow mein, smiling at Grantaire. "Looks like it paid off."

Grantaire definitely doesn't let his fingers brush Enjolras' as he takes the food, smiling back. "Thanks," he said, forgetting the strategic eye roll. He sets the carton down, standing up and walking to the kitchenette. "I think I've got a couple cans of Coke in here..."

When he resurfaces from the fridge, Grantaire has two cans in his hand as he walks back to the couch. He freezes just before sitting down, though, because Enjolras has a piece of paper in his hand. A piece of paper he's picked up from the coffee table, which is where Grantaire has sketches scattered all over the surface. Enjolras had pushed some aside to set the food down and apparently has just noticed the subject.

"I can explain," Grantaire begins, the warm feeling gone and replaced with a cold panic. Could he? _I spend hours sketching you because I'm madly in love with you, you see._ God, no, he cannot say that. He doesn't know how else he can get around it, though. Enjolras picks up another and then a third drawing, all him, all done with such an obviously worshipful hand. Grantaire knows he'll recognize himself. He has to say something. "I just... I sort of developed this little crush," he says sheepishly, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck.

"I can see that," Enjolras remarks, casting a sly look over at Grantaire as he uses the same turn of phrase he'd used earlier. "I mean, I didn't know you had a thing for Cosette. And that's real cute and all, R. But she's taken, man. You know that."

Cosette? Grantaire looks at the drawing in Enjolras' hands, his brow furrowed in a frown. He thinks it's _Cosette_? Sure, he had taken artistic license and maybe accentuated Enjolras' natural beauty a bit more than strictly necessary. And okay, his hair was a little exaggerated. But Grantaire thought he captured a damn good likeness of Enjolras every time. If anyone knew what he looked like from memory, it was the man who spent far more time than was healthy staring at him.

"That's not Cosette!" Grantaire says hotly, snatching the papers from Enjolras. He knows his anger is irrational and misplaced, but it was preferable to the embarrassment he feels. "I know she's taken! I'm not an idiot!" Grantaire rushes to gather the papers from the coffee table as he feels Enjolras' confused gaze on him. He stuffs them all into a notebook, which holds several more figure studies of Enjolras (profiles, hands, detailed sketches of his eyes and lips and even his nose), and marches across the living room to stash it on the overflowing bookcase. Grantaire whirls about and he doesn't really mean to make his grand confession in such a manner, but the words are out before he can stop them. "It's _you_ , Enjolras!"

Well, shit. Enjolras just blinks at Grantaire for a few moments, and Grantaire doesn't dare move or breathe. He isn't sure what the outcome of this will be. He doesn't know if he wants to find out. He almost flinches visibly when Enjolras stands up a few moments later, sure he's going to walk out. But he doesn't. He comes over to where Grantaire is, standing too close, and reaches for the notebook. Grantaire still doesn't breathe as Enjolras carefully opens it, inspects the first image of himself, his fingers almost reverent as they brush over it.

"Me?" Enjolras asks, lifting his eyes to Grantaire's face, his voice soft in a way that brings that warmth flooding back into Grantaire's limbs. He can only nod because, god, he's already said enough and too much and he is certain he's blushing.

And suddenly there are lips against his and _jesus christ Enjolras is kissing him_. It's soft and chaste and only lasts a few seconds, but it's the most incredible kiss Grantaire has ever had in his entire life. His eyes are wide and owlish as he stares in disbelief at Enjolras, who has the most appealing flush across his cheeks when they part. "If that's what my hair looks like, I need a haircut," he says. And he simply walks back to the couch, taking up a carton of food as if nothing had happened. As if he hasn't just shaken Grantaire's world right off its axis.

So Grantaire does the same. They eat and it's like a sickeningly adorable scene out of a rom-com with the way they both try to steal glances at each other and keep getting caught. And one or both of them may or may not have actually _giggled_ before it was done. But they don't say a thing about the kiss or what it meant or where they might go from there. Grantaire is beginning to despair that maybe it was a one-off thing, a caught-up-in-the-moment thing for Enjolras that isn't to be spoken of again.

Until Grantaire cracks open his fortune cookie and can't help but tip his head back and laugh. "You've gotta be kidding me," he says. He passes it to Enjolras, who reads it aloud and grins.

"'You will soon get unexpected kisses in unexpected places'." Enjolras raises an eyebrow and smirks as he leans closer, and Grantaire feels his heart skip so many beats Joly would've sent for an ambulance had he heard its rhythm. "And I always thought these things were bullshit," he mumurs, just as his lips press to Grantaire's in the second unexpected kiss of the night.


End file.
